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A memorial tribute I wrote to my Mama and Papa on Care 2 in my sharebook. I would like to also share it here.  Mama, Papa this is for you. Name: Dorothy & WIlber Jurney Type: Memorial (for the deceased) To Honor: Individual(s) Location: Dublin, Texas United States       Mama and Papa When They Married My grandmother, Dorothy Jurney (Gee), married and had a little girl of that union by the name of Sue McCleery. Her husband left her and her child to marry another woman and broke both Sue and Dorothy's hearts. Then she thought she had found true love again, and remarried a man whose closest description would be that of Scrooge. Then they had my mother, Joanie Davis. Now, by the time Joanie came along, Sue was already grown up and fresh out of high school. Sue dropped out actually and married and was pregnant with her first child while my grandmother was pregnant with my mom. As Joanie entered Jr. High School, my grandmother's relationship with my mom's dad was not fairing well. He was abusive and very mean spirited. That is when my grandmother met Wilber Jurney. He was the kindest, most wonderful man she had ever met. He also had been treated badly in relationships and had been married once. Of that union he had a daughter, but the daughter wanted nothing to do with him because of the mother. He never heard from them or had a relationship with either after the divorce. Then he met my grandmother and Joanie. She got a divorce from my mom's dad and not long later, she married Wilber. Now my mom didn't take well to the changes and was too young to understand the abuse that my grandmother suffered and she rebelled. Wilber treated her as though she was his daughter and took her and my grandmother on trips and worked hard to provide for them. He farmed for a west Texas millionaire oil man and they moved out to the ranch where they lived in a very nice brick home. The boss man as they called the millionaire oilman, was unique among bosses. He was firm but fair and he genuinely cared about his employees. Each had a nice brick home on the huge ranch where he raised his Herefords, stretching between Comanche and Erath counties. He sent a turkey and ham each holiday to all of the workers. He paid all the bills for each home except the phone on top of their salaries and provided a work truck for their job. He was a Christian man and was a wonderful caring man. He treated the animals on the ranch very well. They were fed coastal hay, sudan hay, and oats in addition to free grazing. The cows were allowed to keep their calves until the cows were ready to wean them. The cattle were for herd building, called breeder stock, and were not intended for slaughter. So, my grandmother, my mom, and WIlber all had a nice life there on the ranch. But my mom was restless and wasn't doing well in school. She got into a lot of trouble and so my grandmother sent her to live with her cousin in Dallas from my mom's dad's side of the family. She met my father, Robert, and they fell in love. My mom ended up getting pregnant by him at the age of 16 and so she came back home and my grandmother agreed to let them marry because back then it was thought of as being very bad if you had a child unmarried. But, my father, got in trouble not long after I was born and he was convinced by his family to go back to Mexico to avoid being prosecuted. My grandmother and Wilber allowed my mom to come back home and they had my father sign divorce papers and custody papers of me in return for not turning him in to the authorities. He was never seen or heard from except through my mom one other time after that. My mom was still restless despite my grandmother and Wilber's attempts to keep her happy and help her with me. I was only 3 months old when I came back to live with them with my mom. But my mom thinking she was so in love with my father, took me and Wilber's pickup and headed out to Mexico with me without their consent. They followed her of course to get the pickup back and also out of concern for us. They caught up with her at the border and just barely saved their pickup. She had ran out of money and illegally sold it to a shady man. They only got it back because they just so happened to spot it hidden in the back of the man's property. My mom had gotten to the border, but she couldn't get across with me because she didn't have the proper paperwork for me. She was also out of diapers and out of formula for me. Thankfully, because my grandmother and Wilber had followed her, they were there and tried to convince her to come back home. She refused, and gave me to them and she went on across the border to find my father. From that day on, I knew no other parents than my grandmother and WIlber. They became Mama and Papa to me and weren't considered my grandparents for even a minute. Papa raised me and loved me just as though I was his own flesh and blood and his real daughter. They even adopted me and Papa gave all of us his name, me and my Mama, the last name Jurney. So legally I was then their daughter. My mom did come back from Mexico very sick and Mama and Papa continued to try and help her. They would pay for her to move into her own place and Papa even helped her get jobs with people he knew in town. But, she would get restless again and end up leaving again. Eventually, my Mama and Papa became angry and disgruntled about helping her, even though they still helped her. They always loved her and they always loved me. I shudder to think what could have happened to me if they had decided to throw my mom out on her own and not bother with her, or if they had chosen to let the state take me and deal with finding me a home. I don't know what would have happened, but I don't think it would have been half as wonderful as being raised as their daughter. My mom was more like my sister and Mama and Papa were my mom and dad. Papa would take me around the ranch with him and I got to see all sorts of wildlife. We had beautiful wildflowers there on the ranch and our boss man was so wonderful, he let me show a few of the heifers from his herds in school. And those weren't cheap cattle. He raised registered Herefords that were representative of the best characteristics in the breed. So, it was quite an honor that he would allow me to borrow a couple of his heifers to use in school. I had a horse and was around horses all of my life with Mama and Papa. I rode and explored. I didn't have any playmates out there, but I had many animals who filled the role nicely and I learned to use my imagination. I also learned a deep love for the land and nature around me. My Papa being a farmer knew the land well and he farmed by the weather. He never irrigated and he was very picky about what he used for fertilizer. He refused to use the manure from the local dairies because he knew their methods for collecting it. They would just scrape everything up in the pens and bag it up and then sell it. He said you never knew what could be in there, bits of metal, chemicals, and lord knows what else. So he didn't trust it. He didn't want the cattle to get anything in their food that would hurt them or the machinery to pick up things that would break the machines. He believed in saving money and metal by keeping what they had in good condition. Of course a millionaire could afford to fix the equipment a million times, but that wasn't the point to Papa. He was thinking of it being a waste to recklessly break something when it can be avoided. He also thought enough of the welfare of the cattle to make sure they didn't get things that would hurt them. Some might say, well it's a cow, if it dies there are many more to take it's place. But not my Papa. Like I said he just didn't see the point in wasting things that can still be useful, so recklessly making cattle sick or killing them with unthoughtful farming would be a waste of a good cow to him as well as resources to restore the cow to good health. I also remember that some of the "cowboys" on the ranch liked to use what they called hot shots. Now the boss man hadn't bought them or authorized them, but one of the cowboys in particular thought it was very useful to carry a hot shot around with him every where. The hot shot was a gun looking object with two metal prongs sticking out at the end and when you push the trigger, it would make an electric shock. Essentially, it was a tazzer gun like the policemen use but for cows. Now, my Papa didn't believe in the use of such things and he refused to use them on the cattle. He much preferred using a pickup over anything else, even the horses, to herd the cows. He'd throw some feed in the back of his old Chevy and they'd follow him just about anywhere. That's how he liked to deal with animals. But, sadly, one time he had to help that particular cowboy and while they were trying to get a mama cow and her baby into a pen to help them because she was having some problems feeding her baby enough, that cowboy kept hitting her with that stupid hot shot. Papa tried to reason with the man and tell him that he was only agitating the mother more and she was only being stubborn because she was being a good mama. The man got so angry with the cow and my Papa that he jabbed the cow with that hot shot several times in a row in his final crazed attempt to get her through the gate. The cow surged through in anger and pain and the gate slammed my Papa's knee between it and the fence breaking my Papa's knee in the process. That man ended up in big trouble needless to say with the boss for cruelty and for incompetence which resulted in needless injury as well. He never forgave my Papa for that actually, but my Papa was always civil to him because well, he had to work with him. Papa always said we can dislike a person's behavior without hating the person. Mama felt the same way and pointed out my mom's behavior as example. My Mama was also a hard working person as well. She carefully and tediously kept our home spotless, washed and ironed our clothes, and tended to me. Mama was raised during the Great Depression era and it showed in her daily housekeeping. Even though she was now well off, she still was just like Papa in not wanting to waste anything. She also believed in keeping things in good repair. She sewed, knitted, and quilted just like her mother, my great grandmother. As a baby, 90 percent of my clothes were handmade. I recall the many beautiful dresses that she made for me and the ribbons she tied in my hair. She believe in cleanliness. A clean home and a clean body equaled a clean heart to her. Even though she and Papa were now at an age when they should have been slowing down and retiring, they just couldn't seem to quit. Mama hardly ever sat down for very long except in the evening after dinner she would spend a few minutes with us as a family to watch favorite shows. There were some times too when she would get out the pictures and we would sit around the table going through them and she would point out who each person was to me. They were of mostly her own family. My Papa's family were mostly all passed away and the rest stayed out of touch, so it was Mama's family with whom we spent holidays and who taught me so much about closeness. My great grandparents raised three daughters during the Great Depression and my Mama was their middle child. I would have to say since Mama and Papa were my mom and dad to me, then my great grandparents were my grandparents. Mama grew up on a farm and she learned appreciation for the land and animals just as much as my Papa. I think that's one reason why they were so compatible because in many ways they were the same. They learned on the farms during the Depression that every thing must be used wisely and sparingly because there was little money and they had a family to take care of. They took care of each other and family was highly valued. Each member had their own jobs, chores, and talents. There was a garden that they received most of their food from. It kept them from starving during that time. They canned all sorts of fruits and vegetables and they took advantage of the naturally growing wild berries growing all around the farm. They made jam and jellies and preserves. Mama once told me of a cake she requested for her birthday for it was one of her favorites. She called it a jelly cake where instead of frosting they used the jelly. They sewed their own clothes from the feed and flour sacks because they didn't waste anything. And scraps of cloth were used for cleaning rags, or for quilting squares. They made many quilts to keep warm with by using up scraps from clothes making or whatever else might yield some leftovers. They got milk from their own cows and eggs from their own chickens and they used corn cobs and the sears catalog for toilet paper. It was a hard but simple life. They picked cotton all day long and then came home and worked hard on their own farms to try and make it by. Those values carried on even into more modern times when I was a child. I was to eat what I take from the pots and never take more than I know I can eat. We never threw out food but reused it the next day. Food was not left in the fridge to spoil. My Mama baked and cooked most of the day making enough for a couple of days and several meals if she could. She would make huge pots of beans and stews and cornbread to go with them. Vegetables were a main staple in our meals. We had a garden as well for many years until they moved to a different home there on the ranch and there was no space for a garden there. But I remember my Mama going out to the garden and picking squash and various other vegetables and fruit from the small orchard that was kept specifically for the workers to gather from for their families. Mama taught me how to snap green beans and cut up vegetables to freeze. She would also gather as many pecans as possible and freeze them in large bags. She would use them for various pies, breads, and other things throughout the year. She used rags to clean with out of old jeans and shirts that were no longer wearable and hardly ever used sponges that I can remember. I also remember that we had a dishwasher in the house that I remember best. We lived there for 16 years. She didn't use that dishwasher but maybe a handful of times in all those years. Her fellow women relatives would try to get her to use it so she wouldn't wear herself out so much washing dishes all day everyday, but for some reason she just wouldn't. She preferred to stand over her double sink and stare out the window at the hummingbirds in the summer or the wind blowing the leaves in the winter while she diligently washed and scrubbed every dish, utensil, and pan that had been used. I remember watching her hands become gnarled and twisted with arthritis and thinking it had to be extremely painful to keep doing all these things she did, the sewing and washing and all. She insisted my hair had to be clean and "fixed" everyday. I would sit in front of her on a stool as she curled my hair on the curling iron and put it up in pigtails with pretty bows. She really believed in looking nice but again without waste. She used things until you couldn't squeeze nary a drop more from them. I also remember how angry she got when I used too much toilet paper unthinkingly. She would tell me that I don't need half as much as I roll off and it's a waste. She also was big on saving gas and would refuse to go extra places to conserve on gas. If she forgot something in town, she made do until the next scheduled trip. Papa was just as conservative on things as she was. He would have us cut back the heater while he would go out and chop wood from trees that were already dead and clear out some brush and bring the wood home for our fireplace. We didn't have much snow in Texas, maybe a sneeze here and there, but it did tend to get cold enough to freeze the pipes. Those were the days that he would crank up our fireplace and our thoughtful boss man made it nice when he had the house built to vent the fireplace throughout the house complete with a blower so that the heat from the fire would go throughout our central heating vents. It saved on electricity quite nicely. They would block off and close up vents in rooms rarely used and bundle up in sweaters and slippers around the house to offset turning the heat back some. Mama also kept oil lamps around the house, better known I think as hurricane lamps. These were the same ones they used in her childhood home during the Great Depression. She was still using them to that day and her sisters and my great grandmother also still had some of the ones they used back then for light. We never sweated the electricity going out at our house because Mama was always prepared with her oil lamps and the pictures would come out. We would sit around the oil lamps and look at the old pictures and sometimes listen to the battery operated radio until the electricity was back on. I remember sitting there thinking, this is how she spent her childhood. Doing homework by oil lanterns and lamps and listening to radio shows like The Shadow. I am so fortunate to have the knowledge that I do that my Mama and Papa put there. The stories from the Depression eras, farming, gardening, and conserving what you have. They were so much better at it than we are now. We could learn many lessons from them and their ways of doing things. Mama's family even wisely used the rainwater that fell from the sky by catching it in a barrel and using it to water the gardens or for washing their hair. Mama says rain water makes your hair very very soft. I wish I could wash my hair in rainwater someday. Mama even kept the old cast iron pot that her mother used to boil and scrub their clothes in along with many other uses. It was huge and I can't imagine how anyone ever carried it. But Mama kept it and even though she no longer needed it to wash clothes since we now have washing machines, she put it out in our yard, filled it with dirt, and planted flowers in it. She planted flowers all around the house as well, to attract the birds and wildlife that love the blooms. She loved to stand at her kitchen window while cooking or washing dishes and watch the hummingbirds that came to the feeder and the flowers. as well as the visiting redbirds and bluejays. Redbirds, which we know as Cardinals, were good luck to Mama. She said if you see a redbird, be sure to throw him a kiss because it will bring you good luck. I also remember her teaching me to make the call of the quail, or bob whites as she called them, because she said their mating call sounds like they are saying bob white. I would make the call and listen and would soon hear the answering call. I always got a kick out of spending a lazy Texas summer evening calling to the Bobwhites. As I said before, family, was another value they gave me and I cherish it greatly. I remember Mama would take us all down to the very same farm and farmhouse where she was born and raised. Yes, that farm is still in our family to this very day. It survived many years, a Great Depression, several wars, life and death. We would go down there so she could check on the land and house and make sure nobody had disturbed things too much. Her sisters also would come down and we would all as a family go out there with my great aunts and my great grandparents, sometimes even with my mom, Joanie. I remember we used to have Christmas out there as a family in the old farmhouse. They even still went out there and had family feasts at times, even though my great grandparents due to their age and failing health had moved to a house they bought in town which was 7 miles away. Eventually, the building grew empty and less used, but it was still there. My Mama would walk around the property with me and Papa and she would tell me stories about her childhood and the area. I also listened to stories my great grandparents told of their history. I thought they were grand tales right from my school history books when they told of going to Oklahoma one year in a covered wagon to visit relatives and how they stayed for three crops before returning home again. And also, the tale of my great grandfather seeing Native Americans water their horses at the local watering hole was very interesting to me. Mama would also take us to the family cemetery which was only a mile away from the farmhouse along the dirt roads. Out there, you couldn't see your nearest neighbor's house from your own and there were many twisting and intersecting dirt roads that a person who didn't know their way could easily get lost on. We would go down the road to the Barbee Cemetery as it was called. Our family's plots for many generations on both the great grandparents' sides. My great grandfather was a Gee and his mother was a Capell and both names littered the cemetery along with my great grandmother's family. My great grandmother was a Stephen before she married my great grandfather and became a Gee out in the pasture in a buggy. And her mother was a Barbee before becoming a Stephen. Now, there is a cabin in downtown Dublin, Texas which is called the Barbee Stephen cabin and is a historical landmark. It's a small one room log home and indeed was owned by my ancestors. The local college town of Stephenville, Texas was also started by my great grandmother's family, the Stephens, and the town was named for John M. Stephen, a relative of course. All this history is passed down to me through my great grandparents and my Mama for she wants me to keep the knowledge of our roots. She has walked with me through the cemetery pointing out who is who and what their relation is. I was shown my great great grandparents' graves and the graves of all their children. There was even a story of how one of the babies tragically died, when the child wandered too close unknown to the great great grandmother while she was cooking and a pot of boiling water was pulled down on the baby scalding the poor thing to death. Such a sad story, but family history. I was taught you don't give up on family no matter how badly they have done, because again, the lesson of you can dislike the behavior and still love the person comes in. My Papa was also a loving and caring man who greatly valued family. But, his family values came from his experiences of not having a family rather than being shown as my Mama was. His father was quite abusive to his mother and was a very strong controlling man. His mother was weaker and subdued and he came home from school one day to find her hanging from the porch. Another tragedy and one that might have scarred others for life into extreme bitterness and hatred of people and the world. That was not the case with my Papa. He grew to be a very compassionate man who treated my Mama like the queen she was. He treasured me and Mama and even Sue and my mom and all the rest of Mama's family as though he were blood born into it. And, despite Mama having been divorced and remarried, they welcomed him with open arms just as though he were blood born into the family. Some families would have disowned Mama and many today still look down upon those that were like her for being divorced and remarried, but I believe in the end, it was God's will for her and for us. Her path led her to true happiness and if she hadn't left her abuser, she would never have found what is in my opinion the right path. The first husband of course, was of no fault of her own. The man left, so what could she do. He set the divorce in motion, so she had no choice but to accept her and Sue's fate. But she prevailed and she worked hard to provide a life for Sue and herself. Mama's legs bore the signs of severe varicose veins from the endless hours of peddling a sewing machine in the sewing factory where she worked long before I ever came along or even my mom for that matter. She bore the battle marks of hard work and a hard life, but she showed me how strong her heart is and how beautiful she was outside and in by her determination and not giving up. I can still hear the words she told me about life, keep on fighting the good fight Delaine so that one day you can stand victorious and say you fought a good fight and stand here to tell about it. Papa also showed me that no matter how bad things are, you have a choice in how you let it affect you. He could have given up, despaired, and became a bitter man. But, he didn't let it do that to him. Sure, he loved his mother dearly, and he still took flowers to her grave on Mother's Day and various holidays holding me by the hand as we carried our offerings to her resting place. But he didn't let the tragedy ruin the man he was meant to be. I have learned just as much from my Papa as I have my Mama. I remember going with my Papa to check the cows and I know that's how I learned to count. I would look over the field and we'd count each one in the spot light to make sure all were accounted for. If there was one missing, we would go look for her and most times, she would have a brand new baby to show us. There was little interference in the birthing process. The cows who were to calve were all grouped into several different pastures together and allowed to do as nature instructs them. So when one was missing, we knew, she had wandered away from the herd to have her baby in more privacy. It was such a wonderful experience to drive upon a brand new mama and her still wet baby who usually would be getting a bath from mama. Papa would get out of his pickup only if the new baby didn't move enough to where he could see if it was a bull or a heifer calf. He never liked to disturb the new family for it can cause a mama to abandon her baby or other problems. It's better to let nature take it's course on it's own unless life and death is greatly at risk and needs intervention for the pair to live. Sometimes that happens even in the animal kingdom. Sometimes a new mother is so bewildered by this creature she has just pushed out, she doesn't know what she is supposed to do and won't clean up the baby or feed it, but instead walk off and leave. There are many attempts to try and unite the pair but if it doesn't work an adoptive mother would be found. There would usually be one mother who might give birth to a still born calf or for some unpreventable reason loose her calf after birth in some way. Then they would wrap the baby in a cloth sack so the scent would linger and save it for an abandoned calf as above mentioned. Then at this point they take the sack and place it on the abandoned calf and give it to the mother who lost hers. I think this is so sweet and wonderful because it helps a grieving mother and gives her a purpose after her loss and the familiar smell of her own baby helps her welcome this stranger as her own. And the baby doesn't have to grow up on a bottle, it can live a happy babyhood with a mother who will love, feed, and care for it. It is such a beautiful thing, and I'm so glad my Papa shared that with me. i also remember there were times when this solution wouldn't work or there wouldn't be an available mother to adopt the little one, or there might be a set of twins born and the mother didn't have enough milk for both babies, so we would get to bottle feed a calf. Now, as a child, I loved this. I would go to the shop with my Papa where he showed me how they mix the milk powder into a huge bottle and shake it up. Then we would walk out back where the babies where kept together (except for the twins, they would be kept with their mother and you would go to their pen to feed the calves) because it was thought the animals did better with companionship of course and with the twins it's beneficial to be with their mother and sibling. I would hold the bottle out as Papa showed me and the little thing would come up and start drinking and would butt their little head as though it was their mama. I would laugh and reach out and pet the little calves. Their fur was so soft and thick and curled in all directions. I grew to love the feel of that fur under my fingers and I grew to love cattle as much as horses or dogs. Later on when I hit high school and showed my heifers in the FFA, I loved the hours I spent talking softly to my pet, brushing her, bathing her and walking her. We formed quite a bond, both times. I halter trained both my heifers myself under my Papa's coaching and the approach was never force. I would go every day at the same times to feed her and after pouring the feed, I would step just outside the fence while she ate, and I would talk to her. That's all, just sit and talk to her for hours and let her get used to me. Then she started coming up beside me as I poured the feed and I would gently try to touch her on the head or shoulder and just rub her. At first I could only get a rub in and she would move away, but after time went by, she eventually let me full out pet her. So, then as she ate I would pet her and stroke her and talk to her, just like I would any dog or cat. Then I started brushing her, and this too she came to enjoy greatly, especially when I scratched her itchy spots. Then I started giving her baths and drying her and then brushing her. It got to where when I came home from school, I would find her looking up towards our house from where we kept her as though in anticipation of me coming to spend time with her. And I would change and hurry down to spend our time together every day. Then came the day when I got out the halter, and I let her sniff it and I showed it to her as if to say, it won't hurt, it's nothing at all. She grew used to it and then one day I slipped it up on her head and fastened it. At first she did shake her head a bit because it was a new thing, but then it didn't bother her. I didn't leave it on her permanently and only put it on when I wanted to walk her. And we went on many walks together. I would walk all over with her, teaching her how to be lead and to stand still when I stopped. It was so wonderful, each heifer became my friend. All of this I learned from Papa who guided me every step of the way with my animals. Then I got 2 pigs to show and we made sure they would not be sold for slaughter. We chose to show in the breeding stock category. My 2 pigs became like dogs to us. We spent many hours with them petting them, bathing them, and walking with them. I was sad to see them go but they went to good homes where they could be mommies and they weren't going to any factory farms or any place bad like that. One went with my Ag teacher who kept a few pigs to breed for the kids to show and he would work it out so the kids could get pigs from him if they couldn't afford one but wanted to show. My other pig went to a family member who kept pigs for the pleasure of their company and caring for them. I learned so much about responsibility and the care that goes into an animal as well as respect and how much these animals have personalities and feelings unique to them just like us. So many today don't realize the extent to which they can feel and show love, but I do thanks to my Papa and the values he taught me through animals. I will always remember my Mama and Papa fondly in my heart. I will never forget them and will mourn their passing each day of my life until I am reunited with them again, for the final and greatest lesson they taught me, was the love of God and the sacrifice that Jesus Christ made on the cross for all of us. They taught me God's Word and took me to church every Sunday. Papa led the singing and Mama taught Sunday school for many years. That to me, is the greatest gift they could have ever given me, besides taking me in to raise me. They taught me God's patience, love, and understanding. And they tried to show by example what God had done in their lives and in their hearts. They truly practiced what they spoke of. They weren't perfect, and they made many mistakes, but they were willing to admit most of those mistakes and repent of them. If I never remember another thing, and if I never follow in their footsteps in any other way, I want to at least retain the teaching of God and His love and His sacrifice of His only Son, Jesus Christ. So, in closing, I just want to say, Mama and Papa, this is my tribute to you and your lives and all the many gifts you gave me over the years. Thank you for giving me life and thank you for making it the best life a little girl could ever know. Thank you for the memories, the values, and the stories. And most of all thank you for the love. May I see you both again someday in Heaven with our beloved Saviour Jesus Christ and may we again share all that love and laughter again.

Writer's Block: Entertainment Center

How has technology changed the way you watch movies and listen to music?

I remember as a child curling up on the soft carpet of our living room floor and listening to my mama telling me about listening to the radio when she was a child. My mama was also my grandmother who had been raising me since I was a mere three months old. Her and my grandfather whom I called papa had also adopted me. So in every way they were my parents more than my grandparents. Mama had grown up during the Great Depression and things for them were quite different than they are now. They would sit around the family radio in the evenings after working hard all day and listen to shows like The Shadow and listen to the Grand Ol Opry Live. Nowdays, we take out our tiny Ipods and various music players and put the earphones in our ears and that's our music. There are no more records, not even many CDs used anymore. MP3s are where it's at, and even more recently MP4s. I think todays technology takes away the togetherness within families when listening to music or watching shows. We used to gather around the TV after dinner and watch evening shows together as a family. We had the same old TV set from Montgomery Ward for about 20 years. It was not just a piece of technology either, it was also a furniture piece. The screen waa set inside a decorated wooden console. It was quite heavy compared to today's televisions. But the memories of the family togetherness is the best part of watching TV. Back then, shows were very much regulated and there were certain things that just weren't said or done on TV to preserve the family quality of the experience. You didn't have to worry so much about parental control because there weren't shows on then like now. Today I have become a bit frustrated with some of the new TV and music technology. I wish there were more shows on TV that i could share with my children and husband. I tend to buy DVDs of the old shows and watch them with my family and we turn on the radio in keeping with the tradition that my mama grew up with. We have found a show that presents some of the old radio shows that were aired all of those years ago when my mama was a child. I will sit there with my children and think of my parents and how they used to sit by coal oil lanterns listening to these same shows. I believe there is so much missing from today's television and musical experiences.
Also, there doesn't seem to be as much quality in the shows and the music. Today's shows are based so much on sex and extreme violence that I just don't have the stomach for many of them anymore. Not that the shows of yesterday didn't have sex in them, it's just the presentation of the sex is so much more explicit. Also, the music, most of the artists today seem to lack true talent. There are a select few that I do enjoy listening to and I respect their music. But so many of them just can't sing and even more don't write their own songs anymore. So many seem to scream into the microphone and you can't understand a word they say. Even in rock and roll, I tend to enjoy most of the older music. You could actually dance to the old music and now it seems the only dancing is just stomping around and bumping into each other. I miss the days of square dancing and 50s dances that was just as entertaining to watch as it was to dance them.
I do believe that technology has very much changed the way we watch television and listen to music and the quality of the music and movies we watch has changed right along with it. I feel the family togetherness is the biggest loss with the new technology and convenience and ease of use is what we have gained in return. Is it worth it, I'm not so sure.

Old Man Winter

Old man winter is finally upon us here in Yakima, Washington. I'm freezing my toucas off. This little Texas gal will probably never get used to the weather up here. I grew up with milder winters. I just know it's going to be snowing soon. I bought a brand new coat with faux fur lining and faux leather outside. I'm hoping that it keeps me warm and toasty in all this cold weather. I also bought a new pair of calf high boots. I don't mind the fall and spring. The weather is not too extreme either way. I don't like extreme heat or extreme cold. I think I'm getting too doggone picky and cranky. That's what's wrong with me. This time of year brings back memories though of my Christmases growing up in Texas and my Mama and Papa. Mama always had the house decorated so nice for Christmas and it smelled delicious. She always did a lot of baking during the holidays. Our family believed in great big get togethers. We would all gather at a relative's house or at our church fellowship hall. There would be tons of laughter, talking, and food. We would sing hymns together and pray. My great grandparents, whom we called Mama Dot and Daddy Fat, had such a rich history. They raised three daughters during the Great Depression. They told of going to Oklahoma in a covered wagon, the Native Americans coming to the local watering hole to water their horses, their first car. So many memories and stories. Sadly, they are all passed away now and I've started my own family. My two girls and Shawn and my birth mom is still living along with my sister who is younger than me by 20 years. We live far apart, me here in Washington now, and her in Texas. But we are all we have. Shawn still has most of his family left, but they are so much different than my family were. They play favorites too much and they don't treat family members equally. They don't believe in huge family get togethers and unconditional love the way my family did. So, hopefully, I can continue my family beliefs and values through my girls. I have been busy trying to get our Christmas celebration together. I have bought the girls a playhouse for Christmas, some pots and pans for it, and a new movie. They are also getting a new puzzle and a Fur Real Purse Puppy. I really hope they enjoy their presents, but I hope they enjoy the memories of watching Christmas shows together, visiting Santa Claus together, and spending time with each other even more than the presents. I don't remember what I got every year for Christmas, but I remember the people I spent it with and the laughter and love we all shared. I know my Mama and Papa are up there in Heaven together with my great grandparents and Papa's mother along with all the other beloved relatives who have passed, watching over us and I know they are having a good time together. I sometimes can't wait until the day I can join them, but I also won't give up all the happy times ahead with my own children either. Well, I think I'm done going down memory lane for now. I think I'll go put on one of my Mama's Christmas records and sing with my girls along with the music. I just know they are going to love A Squirrel's Christmas Wish as much as I did growing up and all the others. Happy Holidays.
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